


Believe in the Light

by darkesky



Series: Sickness at Garreg Mach [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, M/M, Sickfic, blue lions - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesky/pseuds/darkesky
Summary: Dorothea let out a giggle as she leant back against the cabinets in the infirmary. "Manuela's rather diligent when it comes to her job, you know.""Evidently not." He gave a pointed glance around the infirmary before squeezing Sylvain's hand tighter.Her eyes skipped to where he held his friend's hand maybe more tightly than necessary, and a soft smile replaced the cocky one. "Are you worried about the little heartbreaker?"---Felix puts himself on idiot-watching duty because Sylvain never stops being an idiot, no matter who's sick.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Glenn Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Sickness at Garreg Mach [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599064
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	Believe in the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts: i'm trash for the childhood friends (and now Ashe and Dorothea, gosh I didn't realize how COOL they were until I set out to write them.)

The door crept open, and Felix forced the dream away. He can’t quite bring himself to fall asleep, not with the pulsing heat concentrated in his hand, so he kept finding himself in the throes of a daydream. Some of them involved the training yard, so sharp he almost thought it real. And others involved his father and his brother, and he blinked it away before it could bring him low. 

Besides, with the frequent visitors, he knew he’d receive a wake-up call somehow. Ever since he arrived with Sylvain babbling nonsense in his arms, the infirmary received people seeking medicine. All of the healers (Mercedes, Linhardt, Marianne) arrived at some point to build up a general supply for their houses. 

_ (Mercedes paused as Manuela sought out a bottle. “Do you plan on spending the night with him, Felix?” _

_ “The night’s already over,” he huffed. _

_ She looked out the window where the moon still hung high in the sky and smiled to herself. Without saying anything else, she left him to Manuela trying to get him to abandon his post by Sylvain’s side.  _

_ But with Felix there, Manuela could slip away to whatever she called her ‘important meeting,’ and he stayed there until the sun started to peek through the curtains.) _

“You’re still here?”

The voice, softened by sleep, gave him reason to lift his head. A few stray strands fell into his face immediately, and as he went to push them back, Sylvain tightened his grip and kept him from doing so. Turning, he gave the sleeping redhead a dirty look before using his weak hand to sweep back his hair. 

At some point, his hair tie traveled from his hair to Sylvain’s wrist; he used it as a way to keep him from bawling last night. Glenn  _ (and if Sylvain called him Glenn one more time, he might run him through)  _ never grew his hair long enough to be bound back. A few times, he got close, and he chopped it off. He didn’t want to look like a ‘mini Rodrigue,’ he once whispered to Felix… So, anyway, his hair tie asserted the fact it was Felix and not a young Glenn.

He hated Sylvain kept his mind on Glenn because Felix couldn’t chase the image of his brother out of his head.

Said boy sprawled across the cot in his sleep, and Felix wondered if a nightmare caused him to twist the blankets like that or just some dream. He shook the idea out of his head; there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Besides, it’d be foolish to stress over a  _ dream. _

So, he dragged his gaze away from Sylvain and fixed a dirty stare at the person in the doorway of the infirmary. “Go away.”

“And here I thought we were becoming friends,” cooed Dorothea. She still wore some variation of nightclothes, a long, silk jacket draped over her shoulders. Her hair fell in twin plaits, and purple bags traced the bottom of her eyes. But there was a spark there nonetheless, mischief burning bright.

He shook his head. “I’d prefer solitude to you gawking at me.”

“Of course I’m gawking at you.” A sly smile spread across her face as she shut the door to the infirmary behind her. When he raised an eyebrow, she offered a half shrug. “You know, you’re not meant to stay here all night.”

“And I know she’s meant—” The dry tickle brushed against his throat, and Felix swallowed down the cough. “I know  _ ‘Professor’  _ Manuela is meant to stay here all night, and you’re hardly—” 

The hacking coughs cut him off, and he struggled to stop. Finally, as Felix held his breath and ignored the stinging in his throat and eyes, he caught sight of Dorothea rushing about in the infirmary. She knew it too well for someone not trained as a healer. She scooped one of the glass cups from the cabinets and filled it up with water.

As she handed it to him, she perched herself on the edge of one of the opposing cots. “I’m hardly  _ what?” _

“Hardly meant to be here.” He glowered at her over his water. When she mouthed a  _ ‘you’re welcome,’  _ he scowled fiercer. “Students aren’t allowed to be here when she isn’t… Too bad she’s still out from a night of drinking.”

“We used to say she could outdrink a fish and the sailor who caught it.” Dorothea let out a giggle. “But that’s not where I imagined she ran off to. She’s rather diligent when it comes to her job, you know.”

“Evidently not.” He squeezed Sylvain’s hand tighter.

Her eyes found where their fingers entwined, and a soft smile replaced the cocky one. “Are you worried about the little heartbreaker?”

“Speaking from experience?” Felix retorted as his answer. And anyway, he wouldn’t be shocked if Dorothea and Sylvain had fooled around at some point. Dorothea sought out some kind of noble to marry, and she didn’t make an effort to hide it. And Sylvain sought out anyone who would have him, though his father would disapprove of the fact Dorothea was of common birth. 

Dorothea laughed and gestured at Sylvain. He followed her gaze to a bruise on the redhead’s neck, and he felt his cheeks flame up. “I think he enjoys the reputation as a womanizer… The same way you revel in your status as a lone wolf.”

“Excuse you?” he spluttered.

“Your throat’s starting to sound bad… Try not to talk, dear.” She winked at him, ignoring the cold fury in his eyes, and striding towards Manuela’s desk. It took her less than a moment to fish out a bottle. As she read it, a sly smile spread across her face. “I knew she would keep this close at hand.”

“And here I thought you just came to mock me,” he bit out.

Dorothea laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself so much! Your house isn’t the only one who’s under the weather right now. I imagine you saw Linhardt at some point. And I’m starting to feel it… Hopefully, if I start taking care of it right now, I won’t end up like Sylvain… Then again, it might be nice to be doted upon.”

“Shut up.” He wrinkled his nose. “And everyone will end up like Sylvain. That’s how bugs go at this damned school.”

Already, their house felt the impact of four separate people falling ill. Dimitri told him that when he swung by for a visit. Annette still studied from the comfort of her bed, but Ashe had curled up underneath his blankets and read bedtime stories until he cried from the strain. Mercedes noted Ashe might be the next one to be monitored at the infirmary.

And Felix and Sylvain just got fucked over by Sylvain’s bad decision making; Felix couldn’t go out training when every move made him break out coughing.

Dorothea tossed the pill bottle, pulling him out of his thoughts. He caught it easily, ignoring Sylvain’s mumble of discontent when he leant away from his sickbed. Then, he slammed it down on the nightstand. He didn’t take pills until he absolutely had to.

When he didn’t instantly throw them back, she raised an eyebrow before continuing on with conversation. “Still, I’d prefer not getting sick. Maybe I can try and ward it off. Maybe you should try and do the same… That’d start with leaving him to his lonesome.”

“The idiot can hardly watch over himself right now, and I didn’t see any other ready volunteers—” 

“Oh,  _ please.”  _ Dorothea nodded out the window. “I’ve seen your friends milling around here. Are you telling me you  _ haven’t  _ turned down the crown prince? Dimitri looks like a kicked puppy out there. And that sweet friend of yours, the pegasus knight? She’s out there. And I know your house has a healer.”

“What’s your point?” He doubted Dimitri still milled around out there; she must be trying to exaggerate to prove her point.

She shrugged. “Maybe you just want to spend time with him. Don’t worry… I find it cute.”

“Get the fuck out.”

“My pleasure.” Dorothea sauntered away, her laugh just a little too sweet for comfort.

-

Felix jolted upright, his head starting to slump onto his chest, when Mercedes ushered Ashe in. The healer fussed on him, keeping a careful hand on his shoulders even as he sniffled. The boy donned an oversized coat (and he didn’t even guess who gave it to him), sleeves dragged over his hands. With every sneeze, he swiped at his bright red nose.

Mercedes’ eyes lit up when she found him, forcing Ashe to sit down on the bed. “Felix, can you keep an eye on him? I need to go find Manuela… Update her on the condition of the house.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Ashe mumbled, nose nasally and high. Felix made a face and gave Mercedes a pleading look. He already needed to watch over one idiot; the last thing he needed was to keep an eye on someone  _ else. _

She clasped her hands together. “Please, Felix. I won’t be long.”

“Fine.” He leant back in the chair, content to ignore Ashe to the best of his ability. He was  _ exhausted  _ from the last time Sylvain woke up, calling out for his brother this time around. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and when Manuela applied the wet rag to his forehead in an attempt to cool him down, Sylvain cried out for Miklan ‘not to leave him behind.’ And Felix certainly remembered the news of Sylvain being left on a mountainside during a  _ blizzard. _

But Ashe made it incredibly difficult to ignore, sniffling and sneezing until he realized they had contorted to sobs. He whirled around. “What are you  _ doing?” _

“Sorry! ‘M sorry!” Ashe cried out, burying his face in his arms. “I just can’t… I can’t stop thinking, and I keep… I’m sorry.”

Felix studied him for a long moment, hearing the waver in Ashe’s voice. Even with his face covered, he knew Ashe was still crying. Taking a deep breath, he forced the words out as kindly as possible. “Thinking about what?”

“I wanna… I keep thinking I wanna go home, but I… Lonato…” He fumbled for the words and broke out in body-wracking sobs.

His eyes grew up, and Felix awkwardly reached an arm out. He patted Ashe on the back as the younger boy continued to sob. This  _ definitely  _ should be considered under Mercedes’ area of expertise… Maybe even Annette. But Felix really had no idea how to comfort Ashe.

An idea gnawed at him, and he cleared his throat. “How… I enjoyed… I enjoyed that book you lent to me.”

Ashe hiccuped. “What?”

“The book,” he stated again, wincing at the hoarseness of his own voice. It could rival Ashe’s even though he hadn’t been sobbing. Coughing, Felix tried to take the opportunity as a way to formulate his thoughts. “It was a good story… I remember hearing it from my… My brother told me the story a long time ago, but that particular retelling caught my attention. I see why you like it.”

“Your brother?” He straightened and swiped at his face again, smearing the tears across his blotchy face. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I did,” he said.

“What?”

“I  _ did  _ have a brother,” he repeated. 

Going completely rigid, Ashe let out a soft, gasping breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories! I… I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry. I guess reading the story musta brought… Brought up old memories.”

“Calm yourself. Take a breath.” Felix tilted the chair away from Sylvain’s bed and tore his head free. When he glanced down, he could still see the sweat settled on his palm. Shaking it out, he pressed his hands against Ashe’s shoulders to keep him from folding back in on himself. Tears started glistening in the boy’s eyes. “You don’t need to cry over that.”

“‘M sorry—” 

_ “Stop.”  _ The harshness in his own voice gave him pause, but Felix pressed onwards anyway. “You’re being overemotional. I’m guessing you don’t feel great.”

“I…” Ashe hiccuped and whined before leaning forward, collapsing into Felix’s arms. Felix felt his weight get pressed back against the chair. “Everything  _ hurts.  _ I… My skin seems to itch, and I… I can’t sleep because everything  _ hurts,  _ and Mercedes said I needed to rest, but I  _ can’t. _ ”

“It’s… Okay.” He patted Ashe’s back.

Ashe let out another loud sob and curled into Felix, shaking hands gathering fistfuls of Felix’s shirt. He choked. “Ashe, I…”

“I want Lonato,” he managed to get out between sobs.

He froze, staring at the younger boy. When they first returned from defeating Ashe, the boy wiped away his tears and spoke only of the good parts of Lonato. Ashe  _ insisted  _ his adoptive father had been a knight, in some way. And sure, while he may have fallen off the righteous path at the very end, he didn’t deserve the slander. It was only when Lorenz insulted him Ashe finally broke out sobbing, insisting his father had been a good man despite what everyone kept telling him.

Of course, it still affected him.

With his stomach churning, Felix pushed him back onto the cot. “How about you get some rest?”

“Felix, I can’t.” Ashe’s bottom lip bobbed.

Felix shook his head. “No, I can… Remember that book you lent to me? How about I tell you the story? It might be a little different, but…” 

And even though Ashe didn’t explicitly say yes, he knew what to do from the way Ashe’s eyes lit up. He settled back in his chair and started reciting the story, ignoring the hoarseness growing in his throat and the way he kept having to interrupt himself to cough. 

-

“And I thought we made Mercedes the mom of our house,” Ingrid dryly noted as she entered, sweat gleaming on her forehead. Judging by the disheveled nature of her clothes, she just got off the training field. He ignored the pang of jealousy. 

Felix dragged a hand over his face, pointedly not looking at either Ashe or Sylvain. In the middle of the story, Ashe finally dropped off to sleep, and when Mercedes from the office, she offered a sympathetic look. She had no intention of moving him though. 

And if she saw the tear stains still on his shirt, she pretended she didn’t see them. 

Then, he noticed what she held. “I’m not hungry.”

And he  _ wasn’t.  _ Most of the time, the idea of opening his mouth to speak brought a feral kind of terror. Speaking felt as if someone punched a dagger through his throat, but the alternate was letting Ingrid fill the room with her sharp criticisms. He had to fight back in the last way he had. 

At least his stomach didn’t churn like Sylvain’s, who woke up to puke on him just the hour before. At least he didn’t lose control of his emotions again and again like Ashe. 

“Mercedes said you haven’t eaten all day. You know you have to keep your strength up… Especially if you insist on sitting vigil the whole day.” She placed the soup on the nightstand between the two cots… Coincidentally, the place he moved the chair after Ashe settled in. He needed to be close enough for both of them now. 

He shook his head and repeated, slower in case she missed it the first time. “I’m. Not. Hungry.”

“When was the last time you ate?” she said, equally as slow. As she swept her gaze over him, a sad smile played on her lips. “When was the last time you  _ slept?  _ Come on, Felix. When I expect reckless abandonment of health, I usually think of Sylvain instead of you. And Manuela and the other healers can take care of them.”

“I’m not staying for them,” he snapped. At her disbelieving look, he growled. “I’m  _ not.  _ I’m staying to make sure neither of them does anything stupid and infect the monastery further. I already know I’m sick.”

“You can get sicker.” Ingrid dragged a chair over until she sat in front of him, both of them still situated between the two cots. “I can watch over them and make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”

“You’re not sick.” And Goddess, was that true. Even when they were younger, Ingrid and Dimitri never got sick. The two of them seemed to have that streak of stubbornness preventing them from taking any sort of break. Felix got sick first, Sylvain got sick second, and then the two of them watched over them.

It struck him as he reminisced on childhood like, well, a child what Ingrid intended to do. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?” Ingrid plucked one of the teacups from the tray she brought in, sipping from it delicately.

He crossed his arms. “I don’t require you to watch over me anymore. Go fuss over the boar if you must, but I will not indulge in your childhood fantasies.”

“My ‘childhood fantasies?’ And what exactly are those? Do you think I like tending at sick beds? I have better things to do—”

“Then  _ go.”  _ He gagged on the last word, launching himself into another coughing fit. As Felix tried to press his lips together, prevent them from rasping out again, he hugged his middle and held his breath. By the time it finally finished, his whole body ached from the effort, and he closed his eyes to ignore the black spots beating their way across his vision. 

When Ingrid placed a hand on his thigh, he jerked the chair until it hit the wall. “I don’t need you  _ coddling  _ me.”

“I’m not coddling you.” He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but he could only imagine the placating look she’d give him. She cleared her throat. “When have you ever known me to coddle anyone?”

Felix finally took a deep breath, ignoring the wheeze his breath seemed to take on. “Hand me my water cup.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer—”

“Water.” 

She wordlessly handed it to him, and as he practically chugged it, Felix made sure not to make eye contact with Ingrid. Why couldn’t she just  _ leave?  _ None of the others still hovered around him. While he might be taking care of Sylvain and Ashe because Manuela kept leaving the infirmary, it didn’t mean he couldn’t tend to himself. There was a reason he kept his ass in this damned seat all day. It was uncomfortable,  _ he  _ was uncomfortable, but he knew moving around would be a bad idea.

Before he needed to attempt to make conversation, Sylvain stirred from his bed and blinked open his eyes. He offered a misty, dazed smile to Felix before haphazardly flailing his arm in his general direction. “F’lix?”

Ingrid’s eyes went wide, but Felix ignored her. He moved closer to Sylvain and caught his wrist. “Stop moving around. You’re going to break something.”

“Mmkay.” Sylvain turned his head, eyes searching for something but never once lighting up with recognition. And judging by the way his head started to loll, eyelids drooping, Felix knew he wasn’t going to stay awake much longer. “Wh’re…  _ Where  _ are we?”

“Infirmary.” 

“In…” Tripping over the rest of the words, panic suddenly shot across Sylvain’s face. He struggled to sit up, and even as Felix yelped and pressed him back against the pillows, he lifted a hand to grope at Felix’s forearm. “Hurt… You… Are you…?”

“No,” he said stiffly. And he could still feel Ingrid’s eyes bearing into him, so he’d prefer if Sylvain stopped acting so…  _ Cuddly  _ with Felix. The two of them hadn’t been this close since they were little. “You—”

“F’lix…” He tried to clear his throat, but it came across as a weak, mewling noise. “Not hurt… Sure?”

“I’m sure.” It’d help if Sylvain could form coherent sentences, Felix thought. Because then, at the very least, he wouldn’t have to worry about Sylvain melting his brain in his goddamn skull. He doesn’t have enough brain cells to spare.

Sylvain pulled his arm closer. “Don’t want you hurt.”

“I’m not.”

“F’lix… I love—”

“The only one hurt here is you because you’re a dumbass who couldn’t recognize when he got sick.” Felix ripped his arm away, and the force was enough to send the water cup flying and shattering across the room. Sylvain stared at him, misty-eyed, and Felix stomped over to the doors of the infirmary. “Fine, Ingrid, you win. I’ll go get some fresh fucking air and smell the roses or some shit. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Felix—”

“Watch over the idiot.” 

-

Life had been easier when they were younger. The four of them acted as one unit even though they rarely received the chance to spend time together. Sylvain, meant to be best friends with Glenn, had bonded with him instead. Every time he came over, Sylvain insisted on playing with Felix. And Ingrid and Dimitri soon fell into step with their antics even though both required persuading and coaxing to let loose. 

But the moment the four of them lived in the same  _ hallway,  _ they fractured. Felix would argue they fractured long before that. He got sick of Ingrid’s whining about his brother; he got sick of the way her eyes went misty every time he acted the slightest bit like Glenn; he got sick of the way she insisted he died the truest kind of death  _ (he got sick of the way he lived both in Glenn’s shadow and as Glenn’s ghost. He got enough of that treatment from his father—from Rodrigue).  _ And he saw the way Dimitri fell apart and shattered in the worst way possible. When Dimitri fell into broken pieces and chose to start breaking others with the power it granted him. When Dimitri turned to him, as feral as a boar, he knew he couldn’t admire Dimitri as he had as a child.

And Sylvain acted like a fool and didn’t train enough and made his heart stop in his chest every time he so much as smiled. 

Only one person ever knew of Felix’s crush on Sylvain, and it had been the man of the hour.

Actually, Felix mused to himself as he laid down on his bed, when hadn’t Glenn been the man of the hour? Because of his four friends, he can’t think of a single moment Glenn hadn’t become entwined with them. Because Dimitri saw him as Glenn, as someone  _ becoming  _ Glenn, and Ingrid saw him as a way to reach Glenn again, and Glenn was the one who knew and  _ supported  _ Felix in his pursuit of Sylvain.

And then Glenn died. And now, as Sylvain laid dying of some sickness being passed around the monastery, he only saw Glenn. Maybe it was a sign of death. Maybe it meant it was coming for Sylvain. Maybe Sylvain  _ wasn’t  _ mistaking him for Glenn in his delirium; maybe he seriously saw him.

“Fuck you, Glenn,” Felix whispered to the ceiling, ignoring the pain mounting in his throat. And then, he sat up and tried again, a little louder. “Fuck you. Glenn,  _ fuck you.” _

Because fuck him. Fuck the way he left all of them behind that was chivalrous. Fuck the way Felix couldn’t even turn to him for advice because this was  _ terrifying,  _ he was going to lose  _ everyone to this plague,  _ and Glenn just kept  _ getting  _ people. Because Glenn had done the easiest thing in a warzone. He had  _ died. _

And now, Felix had to grow up with a war breathing down his neck and a plague wrapping its fingers around his wrists. 

His voice cracked. “I fucking  _ hate  _ you, Glenn!”

Then, his chest exploded, and he started hacking. Felix could barely breathe, but the coughing fit would pass eventually. Maybe the goddess was cursing him for cursing Glenn; everyone favored his brother anyway. Everyone except Lady Luck, he supposed.

Grabbing a pillow, he held it against his chest until he trusted himself to breathe again. Blinking away the tears starting to swell in his eyes, he got to his feet. As he left his room, he kicked at a stone sitting at the top of the steps. With the softest voice he can manage with the raspiness, in between the wheezy breaths he had started taking, he bid his brother goodbye in his room. 

Because the only way Glenn ever came back was with delirium or death, and Felix could do without both. 

-

When Felix returned, it was to Sylvain’s panicked greeting and Ingrid’s inquisitive look. He simply reclaimed his old spot and sipped at the tea Ingrid left by his bedside. The lukewarm liquid felt like hell against his throat, but he welcomed the sensation nonetheless.

Sylvain let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry…”

“Fine.” Felix leant back in his chair and nodded at Ingrid. When she didn’t start speaking, he offered a curt grunt. “You wanted to be here so badly. That means it’s  _ your  _ job to entertain us. Ashe likes knight stories.”

“Ashe is asleep.” A smile curled across her face when he gave her a dirty look. She cleared her throat and nodded at Sylvain. “Then I suppose the responsibility passed to you, Sylvain. What kind of story do you want to hear?”

“Love story,” he said immediately.

Felix rolled his eyes, but Sylvain offered his shyest smile. He turned his head to ignore the blush starting to spread in his cheeks. In fact, Felix took another sip of tea to obscure his face from Sylvain’s gaze… Not that Sylvain could really pick up anything more sophisticated than a smile indicating happiness right now.

Ingrid hummed, briefly lost in thought. “There’s not many love stories from home. Most of them are about knights and… Not many are purely about love.”

“Why am I not shocked?” grumbled Felix. Still, he intended to make Ingrid follow through with this. She can stumble through the ideals of a love story; the idea of anyone telling a love story at this school was laughable. Most of them still dealt with the idea of marrying for Crest babies. And the boys at this school didn’t seem to realize their parents married women to them regardless of love, and the girls who  _ did  _ realize this had slowly drifted away from the idea of love as a  _ choice. _

Then, a sly smile crossed her face. “Once upon a time, there was a god named Duma and a goddess named Mila who fought each other bitterly for an age.”

“Duma…?” Sylvain mumbled the word, and when his gaze slid over to Felix, he shrugged.

Giving both of them a sharp look, Ingrid gestured over at Ashe. “He told me this story. Have you heard the tale of Celica and Alm? No? Then shut up, and let me tell the story you asked me to.”

“Celica and Alm?” Felix breathed out a laugh. His vision started to blur, and he leant farther back in his chair. Ingrid reached over to pluck the teacup as he coughed weakly. “Those are dumbass names.”

“Hugo,” Sylvain said after a moment’s hesitation.

Felix scowled. “Better than Sylvain.”

“Hey!”

“Boys, let’s not fight. You wanted to hear a love story, and you keep rudely interrupting me. This  _ obviously  _ isn’t set in our world. It happened a long time ago in a different world, a world where they didn’t worship one goddess.” She hummed, collecting her thoughts. When she started telling the story, he found his hearing tunneling. He didn’t truly care for the story, but he kept missing bits and pieces.

Then, Sylvain laughed, and he startled out of his haze. “That sounds like Felix.”

“No, it doesn’t. It sounds…” Felix paused as the words ran away from him and he lost track of what he was going to say. He swallowed and tried again. “It sounds… Uh…”

“Are you okay?” Sylvain reached out a hand, trying to grab Felix’s.

Felix recoiled as a soft alarm went off in his head, muted by the fuzziness starting to invade his senses. “Of course, I… You… Uh…”

“Perhaps it’s time for you to get some sleep.” Ingrid reached for Felix, trying to help him out of his chair, but he shook his head until stars invaded his vision. But she practically lifted him up, and for a second, it felt like he floated. Then, his knees wobbled and he collapsed halfway onto Sylvain’s cot.

Sylvain let out a yelp. “Felix!”

“I… ‘M not tired,” he insisted. Then, he paused and licked his lips. The taste of the tea still remained, and he glanced at the pill bottle near the tray. When Ingrid’s eyes slid away for a moment, he knew he was right. He tried to offer a sharp word, but the only thing which came out was a soft mumble though, offensively weak and confused.

Ingrid’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry, Felix, but you really do need to rest.”

“Really…?” Felix blinked his eyes in a furious attempt to keep them open, but it only resulted in the haze of sleep pressing harder against him. He settled farther back, body brushing against Sylvain’s burning one. Even in his moments of lucidity, which always came after Manuela poured some form of concoction down his throat, Sylvain’s fever couldn’t be denied. He heard a rumble of Sylvain’s voice, but he nestled deeper.

He’d blame the fact Ingrid drugged him in the morning for the way he fell into Sylvain, desperate for the touch. But for now, his eyes drifted shut on the soft smile on Ingrid’s face and the weight of Sylvain’s arm finding its way to his waist.

-

“You… Drugged him?” Dimitri blinked at Ingrid, shocked.

She didn’t even wince at his tone. Instead, she offered a curt nod. “It’s for the best. You know he would have worked himself down to the bone otherwise.”

“That seems like it’s out of your jurisdiction,” he reminded her softly. Even again, he couldn’t bring himself to fully chide her. When Felix eventually woke up and told one of the professors, he knew Ingrid would get chewed out. But at the moment, Sylvain had wrapped his arms around Felix’s body, protective and careful all at once, and Felix’s face had fallen into an uneasy bliss. Both of them were still unsteady, still flushed, still sick. But… “You can’t force him to rest if he doesn’t want to.”

“I know, but—” Ingrid cut herself off when the door to the infirmary opened.

Ferdinand staggered in, one arm draped around Hubert’s shoulders. He seemed to have lost all sense of balance, and judging by the glaze coating his eyes, he didn’t even recognize that. Behind the pair, Edelgard trailed with her rigid posture only challenged by the worried way she bit her lip.

From her office, Manuela paused in her examination of Ignatz. “Another one of you? At this rate, I’m going to have to start sending some of you back to your rooms. I’m running out of beds in the infirmary.”

As Dimitri hurried to Edelgard’s side, he glanced down the row of cots. The side closest to the door, Felix, Sylvain, and Ashe laid in a neat row. On the opposite wall, Marianne chatted softly with Hilda. And Linhardt slumbered in one of the chairs, though Dimitri didn’t know whether he was acting as a sick student or a backup medic.

“This isn’t an ordinary sickness,” he murmured to Edelgard, soft enough to avoid detection from his fellow Blue Lions.

She offered a curt nod. “I don’t believe so. I almost think we’ll need to join forces to face this foe. Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and Golden Deer alike seem to be going down to this.”

“You still appear to have most of your house,” he said after a second.

Edelgard offered a tight smile. “I suppose we just have the best luck. However, we will need to start caring for the sick… Manuela can’t handle this load by herself, and our own healer seems to have caught something.”

“And how would you—” 

“But until that happens, as you astutely mentioned, more students will have to fall ill.” Edelgard moved to join Hubert’s side before pausing. “But Dimitri, keep your ears open. If there’s anything we can stop this from spreading, we need to share with each other. This can’t be isolated just to those helping the sick anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing sickfics haha, this has been so much fun! Thanks to everyone who has been reading. I figured I'd give you all a chance to get a say on who gets the next fic because I have a vague idea of who it COULD be but,,, should it be:  
> 1- Ashe (I love me some blue lions)  
> 2- Ferdinand  
> 3- Dorothea (she is SO MUCH FUN to write)  
> 4- Linhardt  
> 5- Leonie


End file.
